


tumble

by Pares (kormantic)



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Flirty Phone Calls, Laundromats, Unsuccessful Laundry Innuendo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-04-13
Updated: 2002-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 09:59:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kormantic/pseuds/Pares
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A girl needs clean underwear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tumble

"A girl needs clean underwear, Toby."

CJ could hear the rhythmic swish of the washers closest to her over the faint hiss of the cell phone connection.

A man folding his boxers gave her a slow smile and she re-crossed her legs for effect, careful not to meet his eyes.

"Even as a civil servant you make enough to get the washer repaired. What are you even _doing_ there? Can't you just... rinse your delicates in the sink?"

She laughed, leaning back, pressing one hand flat against the copper flecked Formica folding counter.

" _¿Puede usted decirme donde se está llevando a cabo el entierro?_ "

"Where is the... what?"

"Funeral. I'm reading _El Mundo_."

"That's... fascinating. Are you planning on attending one? Tell me... are you washing all your _black_ underwear?"

"Mr. Ziegler. What an untoward question."

"You're being evasive. The answer must be yes. Actually, I'd really like to know."

"A lady never tells, Toby. Anyway, I'm flipping through my phrase book. I think it's time to learn a new language."

"Since you've already mastered government double speak?"

"You've got my number, red rover. Here: _'Estoy usando mis zapatos negros nuevos.'_

"I knew you were wearing _something_ black."

"I thought you'd like that."

She swung her ankles a bit, and one of the washers whirred to a lurching halt.

"I'm actually at the fluff and dry stage. In case you were wondering."

"The real question on my mind, other than the color of your underwear, is why you're calling me from a laundromat."

"I was bored. Truman Capote and _El Mundo_ can only get you so far on a Saturday afternoon."

"What are you reading? Grass Harp?"

"In Cold Blood. Not exactly bedside table material. So, sunny, muggy April Fresh laundromat reading. You know what I wish?"

"That the President would appoint you capo of the fashion police so you can level your 'no white jeans' decree?"

"I have nothing against white jeans. On the right person. No, I was wishing it was the first day of summer vacation. Like in high school, when you get out, and you can borrow your dad's car and just... drive?"

"I grew up on 10th and 83rd. There was no car to borrow. And I'll tell you, the subway isn't the same."

"No open road, no wind in your hair?"

"What hair?"

"You know, you could probably stand to do a few loads of laundry, Toby."

"All my socks match. I don't want to mess with the delicate balance there."

"I think you're overlooking an opportunity, my friend. I hear tell that laundromats are great places to meet people. You might get lucky."

"My place has a washer. And a dryer. I probably even have some dryer sheets. Somewhere."

CJ didn't say anything to that, instead tipping her head to spy a one-legged pair of sunglasses that had been abandoned under an orange plastic chair.

"So you're saying you want me to drop by so I can sort your lights and darks?"

"Something like that. CJ."

"Tobias."

The man across from her had finished folding his laundry. He hoisted the cracked yellow plastic basket and balanced it on his hip so he could shoulder a duffle bag full of socks over his other shoulder.

She gave him a smile as he backed open the wide glass door. The laundromat was filled with ambient sound: the low mumble of a television anchored in a corner, the slick rub of magazine pages as two women in cut-offs and halter tops flipped through magazines. The alternating hush and rumble of the various appliances queued around the room.

"You could drive over. The wind in your hair. I think you know what the smell of fresh laundry does to me."

"I'll have to throw out my Chanel 22. From now on it's a dab of fabric softener behind the ears..."

"I could... I could fold your towels."

She laughed. "That's the weirdest lewd invitation I've ever heard. You're a professional writer?"

"I could ball your socks instead," he offered dryly.

"I think I have to hang up on you now."

There was a low, cranky buzz from one of the huge cyclops dryers.

Smiling, CJ disconnected.

She let it ring a long time before she answered it again.

"I have two words for you: Clean. Sheets."

"I'll be there in half an hour," she said.


End file.
